Green Living Can Be Deadly (A Blossom Valley Mystery)

by McLaughlin, Staci

“Someone killed him at his home, slit his throat, the same MO as Wendy.”

  I shuddered as I sank down onto my bed. My breath didn’t come as easy all of a sudden. “I can’t believe it. I talked to Preston yesterday.”

  “When?” Jason asked, his voice tight. “About what?”

  My mind replayed the conversation from the previous evening. “I ran into him at the Walnut Hills complex when Ashlee and I went to look at an apartment. He was thinking about renting as well.”

  “Why would he do that? He had all that insurance money coming his way.”

  “He said Wendy let the policy lapse. Plus, I guess, the house had quite a mortgage on it. Preston couldn’t afford to stay.”

  “No kidding.”

  I heard talking in the background.

  “Are you at the office or the crime scene?” I asked, picturing the cops with flashlights, searching for clues in the dark.

  “The office,” Jason said. “And I’m afraid I have to go. I’ll pass what you said on to Detective Palmer. He may want to speak to you.”

  “Fine, keep me in the loop.”

  As I hung up, I remembered what Preston had said about finding a way to get some money. I thought about calling Jason back, but he was obviously busy and I didn’t have any real details.

  Instead, I tossed my phone on top of the covers and tried to grapple with this unexpected death. Was his murder somehow related to the money he’d mentioned? Had he told someone he’d found Invisible Prints’ missing funds, and they’d killed him for it? If Detective Palmer didn’t contact me tomorrow, I’d reach out to him. He needed to know this, even if I didn’t have more specific information.

  I leaned back on my bed, planning to rest for a moment. When I opened my eyes again, it was half past ten. Shoot. I’d taken a nap right up until my regular bedtime. I could forget about a good night’s sleep. I put on my pajamas, wandered into the living room, and clicked on the TV. The house was quiet, and I could only assume that Ashlee and Mom were already asleep. I kept the volume low as I flipped through the channels. After I’d rotated through the lineup twice, I clicked off the set, went to my room, and grabbed a farming magazine Esther had lent me, but my mind couldn’t concentrate on the words. All I could picture was Preston when I’d last seen him, talking about adoption and how much he wanted a family. After a few more minutes, I closed the book, flipped off the light, and lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling. That’s the last thing I remembered.

  The next morning, I awoke to a room full of sunlight. That’s what happens when I forget to set the alarm. I stumbled out of bed, took a quick shower, donned my usual work clothes, and staggered out to the kitchen a mere fifteen minutes after I’d gotten up, a new personal best.

  Mom was already seated at the table, wearing a pair of black slacks, a cream silk blouse, and a red blazer, with gold hoops hanging from her ears.

  “Wow, you’re dressed up this morning.”

  Mom blushed under her rouge. “It’s my first day at Going Back for Seconds. I hope I do a good job. I haven’t worked in almost thirty years, not since I had you girls.”

  I gave her a quick hug. “You’ll be fantastic, and I know you’ll sell a ton of clothes.”

  “Thank you.” She glanced at the clock. “Aren’t you normally at work by now?”

  “Slept in, but I’m on my way right now.” I picked out a banana from the fruit bowl on the counter, retrieved my purse, and opened the front door.

  Detective Palmer stood on the porch, dressed in a brown suit and matching tie. His Ford Taurus was parked across the street. I lowered my banana. Guess I wouldn’t be heading to work just yet.

  “Morning, Detective.”

  “May I come in?” he asked.

  Mom poked her head out from the kitchen. “Who are you talking to, Dana?” She caught sight of the detective. “Oh, dear, is anything wrong?” I noticed Mom had paled considerably. She’d first met Detective Palmer when Ashlee was involved in a murder, and I’m sure his presence brought back a lot of bad memories.

  “Not really,” I told her. “I didn’t want to say anything, but Wendy’s husband was murdered last night.” I heard Mom inhale sharply as I turned back to the detective. “I assume that’s why you’re here?”

  “That’s correct.”

  I pushed open the screen door and held it while he stepped into the house. “Let’s talk in the living room,” I said, creating the illusion of privacy. If Mom listened closely, she could hear every word from the kitchen. And I was pretty sure she’d be listening closely.

  “I’ll get you some coffee, Detective Palmer,” Mom said.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Lewis.”

  I led Detective Palmer into the living room, my palms clammy. I had nothing to do with Preston’s death, yet I suddenly felt like a suspect, just like when I’d talked to the detective after finding Wendy. I gestured toward the sofa and took the recliner for myself. I didn’t need the detective to get poked in the butt by a loose spring in the worn-out cushion.

  He pulled out a notebook and clicked his pen. “It has come to my attention that you spoke with Preston Hartford two days ago. Is that correct?”

  “Yes. Did Jason tell you that? He mentioned he’d pass that along to you.”

  Detective Palmer ignored my question. “What did you and Mr. Hartford talk about?”

  “Don’t let me interrupt,” Mom trilled as she bustled into the room with a tray. She set the tray on the table and placed a cup of coffee in front of Detective Palmer, along with a sugar bowl and creamer.

  He nodded his thanks, and Mom rushed back out with the tray, no doubt in a hurry to get back to the heater vent, her official eavesdropping station. Detective Palmer took a sip of coffee as I figured out the clearest way to answer him.

  “Well,” I said, “we were both considering renting apartments at the Walnut Hills complex. I asked why he was interested, and he said he couldn’t afford to keep his house.”

  Detective Palmer jotted in his notebook. “What, then?”

  I drummed my fingers on the armrest while I thought. “He said something strange about having an idea where to get some money, so he might not be renting after all.” I waited for Detective Palmer to leap up from the couch and hug me after this big revelation.

  Instead, he glanced at his notes, then up at me. “And?”

  I leaned forward, back straight. “What do you mean ‘and’? This is huge. Don’t you think he figured out where Wendy put the missing money? That must be connected to why he was killed.”

  “You’re making a leap. He could have been borrowing the money from his parents, or getting a loan from a friend. Maybe he was planning to sell some of Wendy’s possessions.”

  Oh, I hadn’t thought of any of those ideas. I sagged back in the recliner.

  “What else did you talk about?”

  “That was it.”

  He didn’t say anything. Clearly, I hadn’t provided the information he was hoping for.

  “So when was Preston killed?” I asked. I pressed my lips together, curious to see if he’d answer me.

  Detective Palmer tucked his notebook into his inside jacket pocket. “Guess you haven’t read the paper this morning. He was killed around lunchtime.”

  I thought back to yesterday. I’d been munching on a chicken sandwich when poor Preston had been murdered. “Did someone really slit his throat?”

  “Appears that way.” He stood. “If you think of anything else, you know how to reach me.” He handed me a business card, though I already had a couple in my room from previous encounters.

  “Sorry that I wasn’t more help,” I said as we walked to the front door. “I really thought I had something there.”

  “You never know what’s important. That’s why we follow up on all leads.” I couldn’t tell if he was being sincere or if he was saying that to make me feel better.

  I watched him head down the front walk. As soon as I closed the door, Mom popped out of the kitchen.

  “Why
didn’t you tell me Preston was murdered?”

  “You were already in bed when I found out last night. I’m surprised Sue Ellen didn’t call you at the crack of dawn to tell you.”

  As if by magic, the phone rang. Mom pursed her lips. “I’m sure it’s someone else.”

  She picked up the receiver, with me watching the entire time. She turned away from me, but I heard her say in almost a whisper, “Oh, hi, Sue Ellen.”

  I knew she’d be on the phone for a while, so I grabbed my purse, ready to drive to work.

  As I was digging out my keys, Ashlee emerged from her room. Her blond hair was sticking out in all directions.

  She yawned. “What are you still doing here?”

  “On my way right now,” I said. “Wendy’s husband was murdered last night. Detective Palmer stopped by to ask what we’d talked about the other night.”

  Ashlee stopped in mid-yawn. That had woken her up a little. “Bummer for Preston. Guess we won’t be neighbors after all.”

  “Guess not.” I unsnagged my keys from my wallet and yanked them out of my purse. “See you later.”

  I hopped into the loaner, noted that the detective’s car was no longer parked across the street, and sped to work. Clouds sat atop the mountains. An icy wind ruffled my hair as I walked past the vegetable garden. I found Zennia in the kitchen, rinsing bits of scrambled eggs off a plate. Berta and the other chickens had come through for her again.

  “Big turnout for breakfast?” I asked as I picked up a dish towel and dried a plate.

  Zennia shook the next plate to get the last drips of water off and propped it in the dish rack, feeling her long-sleeved tie-dyed shirt to make sure it hadn’t gotten wet. “Almost every guest showed up. If I have this many for lunch, I might need your help.”

  “Absolutely.” I set the dried plate down and grabbed the next one. “Say, how did the guests like your slushy-duck thing?”

  “The gooey duck? They loved it. That new guest raved that the meal was better than many of the fine-dining restaurants in San Francisco that he frequents.” Zennia placed a hand on my arm. “I always knew people would embrace my cuisine.”

  “You’re a great cook,” I said. “I just don’t always know what you’re cooking.”

  Zennia chuckled. I placed the dishes in the cabinet and started to walk out of the kitchen. As I reached the doorway, I realized that the new guest Zennia was referring to must be Marvin. She might be able to tell me if Marvin had been at lunch yesterday as well, which would be right around the same time that Preston was supposedly killed.

  I cleared my throat. “So what did the new guest think of your lunch offerings?” I asked in my oh-so-casual voice.

  Zennia tilted her head. “I don’t remember him being there, but then I only served my tuna salad with tofu mayonnaise, which isn’t too exciting.”

  The tuna might not be exciting, but the fact that Marvin wasn’t in the dining room was. He’d mentioned a business meeting, one that involved finding out about a money situation. Any chance that meeting was with Preston? Was he convinced that Preston knew where the money was? Had he killed him when he wouldn’t reveal the location? Or was my mind off on a wild-gooey-duck chase?

  “What are you thinking about, Dana? You almost look like you’re meditating.”

  My thoughts about Preston vanished. “Sorry, I got distracted. Guess I’ll go write today’s blog.” I went to the office and stared at the blank computer monitor for a good five minutes, trying to think up a topic. I brought up my list of backup blog subjects and decided to describe how to use lemons for cleaning.

  As I was typing the last line, Esther came in the room, dressed in a checkered shirt and denim overalls, looking every bit the farmer.

  “Dana, dear. Can you help me clean the rooms this morning?”

  An idea formed, and I all but jumped from the chair. “I’d be delighted.”

  Esther took a step back and slapped a hand to her chest. “My goodness, I’ve never seen you so excited to vacuum a cabin before.”

  “Guess I’m in a cleaning mood today.” Really, I was in a snooping mood. If I could make sure I cleaned cabin nine, the cabin where Marvin was staying, I might uncover something useful, maybe even a clue to Preston’s or Wendy’s murder.

  I brushed past Esther and around the corner into the laundry room, dragging the maid’s cart into the hall before Esther had even reached the doorway. She followed me as I pushed the cart through the dining room, across the patio and pool area, and over to the row of cabins.

  “How about you start with the first one, I’ll start with the last, and we’ll meet in the middle?” I said.

  “We’ll be done in no time.” She gestured toward a stack of organic chocolate bars. “Don’t forget to leave a candy bar in every room.”

  “You got it.” I made short work of the first cabin as I swapped out the towels, wiped down the bathroom, and ran the vacuum over the carpet. I stripped the linens in record time and remade the bed. Then I remade it again when I noticed that the comforter was all bunched up and the sheet was upside down. Maybe I should slow down. When the room looked clean, I added a chocolate bar to the nightstand and carried the cleaning supplies to the cart, shutting the door behind me.

  I pushed the cart next door and stood before Marvin’s cabin. Thank goodness the DO NOT DISTURB sign wasn’t hanging from the knob. I clutched the key in my hand, noticing I was trembling, and knocked on the door. When no one answered, I inserted the key into the lock.

  It turned easily, and I pushed open the door.

  “Dana,” someone said right behind me.

  “Gah!” I jerked back. The keys flew from my hand and skittered across the pavement. I gave Gordon a sheepish grin as I retrieved the keys. “I mean, yes?”

  He ignored my theatrics, thank goodness. “I wanted to congratulate you on your spa giveaway. It’s attracted a lot of interest to our Web site, which is translating into a higher reservation rate.”

  “Great, glad to hear my efforts are working.” I mentally willed Gordon away so I could get back to snooping, but he reached over and picked up a chocolate bar from the pile on the cleaning cart. “Was there anything else?” I asked.

  He studied the red-and-gold wrapper. “These look pretty fancy. How much do they cost?”

  “You’d need to ask Esther. I think she’s friends with the company owner. Now she wants to leave one for each guest in his cabin.” I picked up a bottle of cleaner and a rag, hoping he’d take the hint.

  “We can’t afford to splurge on overpriced chocolates. We need to keep costs down.”

  His stern tone made me wonder if the old Gordon was returning. I flipped over a bar and read the label, but the price wasn’t printed on it. “Esther’s frugal. I’m sure they’re affordable.”

  He set the chocolate bar back down on the cart, and I felt hope bubble up that I’d get into Marvin’s cabin now. Before he could walk away, Esther emerged from the cabin at the other end. Drat.

  Gordon immediately raised his arm and motioned Esther over, picking up the bar once more. I thought about darting inside while they talked, but they’d probably follow me into the room, cutting off all chance of my looking around.

  “Esther, how much do these bars cost?” he asked.

  She took the bar and smiled at the wrapper. “My friend has started a chocolate artisan business. She offered me a huge discount if I’d pass them out to the guests. That’s great advertising for her and a yummy treat for the guests.”

  “As long as it’s a decent discount. I don’t want to waste all our profits on candy.”

  Gordon moved toward the path that led back to the house, and I released a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. But then Esther stepped into my line of vision.

  “Need help with this cabin?” she asked.

  “What? No. I mean, no, thank you.” Maybe all these interruptions are a sign I shouldn’t snoop in guest rooms? I’d have to mull that theory over while I was poking through Marvin�
��s things.

  “Call me if you need anything,” Esther said.

  “You too.” As soon as Esther reached the end of the row, I hurried into Marvin’s cabin, shut the door, and leaned against it. Finally! I did a visual inspection of the room and felt my excitement wane. The room was almost bare, with a suitcase in the corner, a paperback book on the nightstand, and a small binder on the coffee table. I moved over to the partly opened closet and saw two dress shirts—one orange, one white—and a pair of dark slacks. The dresser top was bare.

  I gripped a drawer pull, but I didn’t open the drawer. Even though I couldn’t wait to get inside the room, searching through drawers was a huge invasion of privacy. I didn’t mind looking at things in plain view. I mean, Marvin knew whoever cleaned the room would see anything he left out, but drawers were private sanctuaries. I took my hand off the knob and focused on the small binder.

  Upon closer viewing, the binder appeared to be a day planner. With the advent of smartphones and tablets, I didn’t realize anyone still carried an actual paper planner around. I undid the clasp on the side, but then I froze again. Was opening his day planner any different than opening the dresser drawer?

  I heard a noise outside the cabin and whipped around toward the door. My cleaning bottle smacked into the planner and sent it hurtling off the table and onto the floor. It bounced open, loose scraps of paper spilling onto the brown carpet. Oops!

  I dropped to my knees and scooped the papers into a pile, glancing at a couple of sheets as I cleaned up. One was a gas station receipt, another was from an office supply store. I straightened everything into a tidy pile and placed them back inside the day planner. When I scooted back, I noticed a stray scrap of paper near the coffee table’s leg. It had obviously been torn from a larger page and contained a number and a street name. Why did that address seem so familiar?

  Oh yeah, it was Preston’s address.

  Why did Marvin have it?

  26

  I stared at the scrap of paper, wondering if I had the proverbial smoking gun in my hand. Then I dropped it onto the stack, slammed the day planner shut, and placed it back on the table.